The Seventh Year

. 25 .

b e a
Andy brought his car to a slow stop in front of an apartment building. It was located a block down Main Street. Conveniently so, so Andy could go to work while I was at my apprenticeship. He would be able to drop me off and pick me up. I pulled the sun visor down for its mirror. As I made sure my mascara wasn't smudging under my eyes or my lipgloss was evenly applied, I heard Andy laugh. I turned to look at him and he smiled. Seeing him look at me that way made my heart flutter.

"Sorry." He said and reached over to unbuckle my seatbelt for me. "It's just that it feels like I'm dropping you off so you can meet your boyfriend, not your boss."

I giggled and pushed the visor up. "Are you jealous?"

"Jealous?" Andy waved his hand at me and chuckled. "Nah. It's not like you're going to be working for some gorgeous Korean celebrity with the voice of an angel. But all jokes aside, have fun Bea."

"Thanks." I replied and pulled the straps of my tote bag over my shoulder. "See you later, Andy!"

"I'll see you." He waved as I got out and shut the car door. He watched and waited for me to enter the building before driving off.

I felt giddy. It was a great morning. I woke up to Mom being home, cooking breakfast like she rarely does. She wished me luck on my first day as an assistant while we, including Morgan, ate her vegan avocado toast. Andy came to pick me up, avoiding a meeting with mom as he did. I wasn't ready for them to interact yet, but he understood. I was going to work for Darien Cheon and Andy, my boyfriend, was dropping me off.

It was a perfect Saturday and I prayed that every morning would look just like it.

I read the text message from Darien to double check that I had the right apartment. After calming my jittery nerves, I rang the doorbell and took a step back. As if he had been waiting by the door, anxious for my arrival, it flew open within a few seconds.

And there he stood, the man my boyfriend should definitely have been jealous of. Unlike the first time we met, his hair was parted, leaving a gap to display his lovely forehead. He was wearing a short-sleeved button-down that was two sizes too big for him. It was hot. Darien looked happy to see me, and I felt special. I felt guilty for the butterflies he set loose in my stomach.

"Bianca, come on in!" He invited me in.

I walked into the apartment. Thanks to Cara, I knew how this would go in the dramas. The girl would enter the rich man's house, in awe of the interior design, architecture, the furniture, appliances, everything. Darien was a rich man. However, I had also forgotten the fact that he was twenty-three, single, and too career-driven to give a shit about interior design.

My smile grew tense as I surveyed his bare white walls, evident lack of furniture, as all he had were two bean bags and a coffee table full of musical equipment, and a TV. The TV wasn't even on a stand. It sat on the floor with the rest of the equipment that made it run. He didn't even have curtains or a dining table. It was a fairly large apartment for a man who lived alone, but the lack of literally everything made it feel like a modern art museum minus the art.

I slipped out of my white sneakers and set them aside beside his other pairs of shoes. I figured he that since he was Asian, he'd appreciate me shedding my footwear.

Darien offered me a pair of house sandals. "Here. The floor can be cold."

No shit, Sherlock. You don't have a carpet.

Darien led me over to the bean bags and the cluttered mess of equipment, wires, and sheet music scattered on the coffee table and floor. I pressed my lips together and wondered whether I had really been hired as an assistant or a maid to clean it up. Either way, I would've tidied the place for free.